Visiting the Grand Canyon for the first time is an experience I’ll never forget. Peering out into the vast, surreal desert void makes you feel as if the whole thing could swallow you into oblivion.
Yet, despite its breathtaking power and grandeur, the Grand Canyon somehow asserts an introspective and quiet vulnerability.
Truly, what is the Canyon but a massive open wound in the skin of the earth? A wound revealing the tender and humble weakness of rock that once appeared indestructible. Over millennia, with each silky passing of water and ripple, the mighty rock has given way carving the canyon deeper and even more spectacular. What exquisite weakness, indeed.
As I stand the limestone precipice, fear rises into my chest. Vertigo disorients and confuses. Stories my ego fabricates comfort me in distress. “Tragedy strikes at The North Rim as woman loses her balance and plummets to her death…”
Fear is a necessary function of human existence. Without it, our whole species would have been gobbled up by predators long ago. Yet, often our minds run amok and we allow the fear to be in control and to twist the unknown into a wild and ridiculous spiral of speculation.
Yet, rather than be defined by fear, or by our “weakness”, we can get to know it. Address it, say hello to it, then kindly allow it to pass by as a beautiful creation of our experience. Like the flowing water eroding unstable sandstone, the “weak” aspects of our personality can ultimately become what creates the most dazzling and spectacular version of ourselves. Without fear, there is no such thing as courage. Without struggle, there is no catharsis or depth.
Don’t run from your weakness, embrace it with both strength and vulnerability. Who knows what beautiful canyons and ravines you might create?